Jukebox
by ariescelestial
Summary: Cloud had certain buttons that would always be easily pushed, and Barret would always jab them. Scene from sometime after Advent Children.


Cloud had certain buttons that would always be easily pushed, and Barret would always jab them because—he was _Barret_. A hulking mass of muscle who dwarfed Cloud in stature and talked down at him (at everyone), making him remember what it was like being the outcast of Nibelheim, the scrawny kid who always got looked down on. And Barret was not above mashing Cloud's buttons, because sometimes his irrational spiky head needed a good mashing.

Barret had muttered in his cup about how Cloud was stressing Tifa and the kids out and would he just get over his _bullshit_, he was cured. The blond eyed him moodily and said it wasn't like that, he was trying, but—and then Barret raised his voice because fuck try, the man just needed to _do_, like it was so hard to stay put and maybe _someone_ needed to take a gun to Fenrir's frame so he'd settle his antsy ass down. Cloud gave him a look that promised pain for anyone who so much as scratched the motorcycle but said nothing, just moved away.

That was when Barret started deliberately button-mashing, because avoidance was what had pissed him off in the first place and he _knew_ he could get a rise out of Spike. This was the same jackass who'd gotten up in his face over pay, completely unafraid of the gun-arm, and Barret knew Cloud had been a headcase then but that attitude wasn't some dead SOLDIER's. It was 100% idiotic Spike. So he kept pressing on how he was still giving Tifa grief when the woman had been a saint to him. He blocked Cloud's favorite escape route with his massive frame. There was a comment about Cloud being a pussy for running away. Possibly several.

Last straw came down when Cloud, still not saying shit, tried squeezing past Barret after telling him to move was unsuccessful. Barret cuffed his shoulder, not aiming to injure but not being gentle neither, the hit rocking the smaller man back on his feet.

That was the final button, the one that sent Cloud's mindset back to fights in Nibelheim, where the point was never injury, never death, just humiliation, shame and dominance, and with _I am __**not**__ weak I'll show you_ racing through his thoughts he grabbed Barret by the waist of his pants, hoisted the older man up in the air, and rammed him back into the wall. The wall withstood the force of roughly two-forty pounds being shoved into it with mako-enhanced strength like a matchstick: not at all.

Barret heard the crunch of wood—felt it, too, _goddamn Spike_, and after he slid down he eyed the hole in the wall before turning to Cloud and giving the wide-eyed blond a fast smack on the head with his good arm.

This time the blow barely registered any indignation, even though it sent Cloud stumbling forward. "Fuck, the wall," Chocobo-head murmured.

"Yeah, I'm jes' peachy too." He was gonna be roasted alive, and they both knew it.

"-Help me fix it before Tifa gets home."

"Shit, man! It ain't my funeral."

But Cloud's surprise was already bleeding away, replaced by a rather cool look up at his much-bigger friend. "Yeah…I'm sure she'll think it was just coincidence I broke the wall when _you_ came to visit."

"—The hell is that s'posed to mean!" Except once again, it was something they both knew, and Cloud just raised an eyebrow to show it. The other quickly followed when it looked for a moment like Barret would open fire on the ceiling in agitation, but the man remembered himself in time. Bad enough that Tifa would know he must have stirred up Cloud for the blond to mess up her bar; he didn't need to lend his own handiwork to it. "Grrrr…fine! Guess both our fat's in the fire. So how d'you suggest we fix this, huh? Keep in mind my back's still achin' from you."

Cloud wisely held back any cheek about Barret getting older and considered the wall. "Hardly any structural damage…I wasn't trying to break it," he muttered, and Barret didn't smart-ass him about it because they both knew Cloud could do a lot more damage when he felt so inclined. "That's easy enough for either of us to fix. It just…"

"…Will look like shit," Barret concluded, "'Cuz neither of us were ever good at prettying things up."

"Yeah," Cloud sighed, his head dipping. "Dammit, she's going to be upset."

Barret shrugged his shoulders, still inspecting the area. It was fairly broad, and only about halfway up the wall—easy to catch, unfortunately for them. All Tifa would have to do was walk in and it'd smack her in the face.

"Hey, she was used to me shootin' up the bar…"

"In the slums," Cloud said heavily, the implication clear: the new bar in the new city was not supposed to be trashed. "And I'm not you."

Barret didn't like the implications of that second half either. "Well 'SCUZE me for tryin' to cheer up your mopey punk ass! Shit!" He stormed halfway across the floor of the bar looking for something he _could_ bust up, and, concluding that everything satisfying to shoot would piss Tifa off even more, bit off another curse and thumped his fist on a table.

But gently. …For him. As long as it didn't get broken, it didn't count.

"Hey. If we cover it up—?"

"I'm not holdin' your hand, Spiky, figure out what you wanna do!"

"Are you sulking, Barret? I could use your help."

"Oh yeah, Mr. 'Course-I'm-better-than-you'?" Okay, even Barret had to admit he'd sounded sulky with that. He was having a temper over being reminded of his highly flawed temper, god damn it all. He twisted his neck to look at Cloud and see if the younger man actually was ready to do something productive about his little snit's damage.

Nope, right now he looked like he was getting indigestion from his lunch or something, the way his face was twisting up with furrowed brow and frown to match. "That's not what I meant. Tifa was used to that happening with you. With me, she expects…"

He paused, mouth stuck in the forming of a new word, his hands gesturing slightly. Now this was interesting. Cloud was clearly struggling with himself, 'cause this was what Yuffie would have called a conga line of ellipses, and the dots were having themselves a dance as their social idiot of a leader looked more and more frustrated. Barret found himself wondering just what Cloud did think Tifa expected of him. If it was putting on too much pressure, maybe that was why they were having trouble…

…And maybe that conga line woulda actually _gone_ somewhere if Cloud hadn't just turned back to the busted wall. "A table's too low to hide it…"

"Look at that, changin' the subject pretty fast there."

"…Too low to mount something, too…"

"I'm gonna need a Restore for this whiplash."

Dumbass was ignoring him on purpose. "You think—?"

"I think you're running away again."

Cloud was wound up tight; he dropped the pretense Barret was finding so irritating, but the furious look in his eyes when he turned to the black man was a surprise. "Then," he said, the words slow but broiling, "that's just as expected, isn't it?"

He deflated in the next moment, like he'd said something he shouldn't have and oughtta be ashamed of himself. Barret was still trying to figure out just what had been said. That had been _bitter_, and while a friend of Cloud's could end up on his angry side, he didn't think Tifa herself was familiar with it. Bitterness was taking it to another level, too. _He thinks she's expecting him to leave again, and he's upset about it._ He had the uneasy feeling Cloud was right about Tifa's expectations, she seemed so hesitant when he came up in conversation. She always had been, but now there was something behind it. "Hey, man—"

"Forget it," he said. "I know it's my fault, I'll figure it out."

Barret thought about that a moment, then gave a loud snort, deliberately piquing the quieter man's annoyance. "No, you won't. You already thought yourself into a ditch over it, didn't you? That's why you're so worked up 'bout her seeing the wall, you can't stand her seeing you made any more mistakes. But, there isn't really an easy answer to this sort of thing. Trust takes time."

"…I've been a member of this family for three years, Barret. I thought I almost had her trust, but then…" Cloud made a self-derisive sound, shaking his head. The implication was clear: then he'd run and proven her right, and any progress had been undone.

"Then you two need to talk," Barret said firmly, "And I don't mean that silly 'talking about everything but the problem' shit." It was the only course of action that made sense to him. He didn't know if Cloud was right and trust had _always_ been an issue—he remembered Tifa always sounding shy about him, but he didn't want to think his little lady would be that insecure for so long. Especially after Cloud had been so _mushy_ and worked hard at the bar for her sake, at least as long as he'd been around to see. Then again, Tifa had always been a little funny when it came to the blond in front of him. —Hell, this wasn't really something he wanted to speculate about when he didn't know jack. Wasn't his business. But whatever the case really was, he did know talking was the only way they'd get anywhere. Did they ever actually argue? Myrna had given him a piece of her mind plenty of times when she was alive.

Cloud rubbed the back of his head, looking embarrassed. "Marlene told you about that?"

"She's a smart girl, she knows when there's bullshit."

That got a soft laugh, and then a considering look at Barret from those bright blue eyes. Barret gave him a weird look back, because what was that even for, and turned himself to the problem of the wall. "Yeah, she is. …She wants you to stay, Barret."

"I'm staying two more nights, you know that."

"…"

They were having a revisit of the dotted conga line, apparently, except Barret went right on and cut it short; this time he didn't want to hear what Cloud would say next. He took another look at the hole and realized: "Hey, wait a sec. I know what'd cover this up—"

"Hmm, look at that subject change."

"I _said_—"

"Think I'm gonna need a Restore for the whiplash."

"—I ain't helping a damn parrot!" Barret huffed, sulky again.

"Like you said," Cloud explained with a small shrug, "she knows when there's bullshit. You've helped find oil sources. The people who still have Geostigma have a way to get to Aerith's spring. …Now, the disease is only a bad memory. Why can't you stay?"

"I got responsibilities."

Cloud's brow furrowed and he was silent for a moment, though apparently not yet done with the topic. "Loving someone, enjoying your time with them, doesn't make being there for them any less a responsibility. And, punishing yourself by being apart from them… doesn't lessen the fact that it hurts them, too."

Barret knew Marlene missed him; he'd heard it in the way she still said "I love you", how her feet pounded to the door first when he visited…and those awkward pauses when she sounded so sad and he thought she was going to ask him to stay. His heart would lodge in his throat every time, even though she never actually said the words. She always swallowed them back so her papa wouldn't have to say 'no'.

_Cloud's not the only one who's run away._

But if the blond had seen any hypocrisy in earlier conversation, he didn't point it out. Probably knew he didn't need to. "Something I learned being in this family. Other responsibilities can be worked out. …Marlene isn't the only one who wants you to stay."

"I'll _think_ about it," Barret said loudly, signaling he wasn't going to hear any more. Not for the moment; he needed time to think, and maybe have something he could bust up if thinking got to be too much. "If you're going to talk to Tifa. Seriously."

That got a long look away, more avoiding than Barret would have liked, but Cloud finally raised his eyes and nodded. "Yeah…I need to."

"All right, then. You got gil saved up?"

Cloud followed Barret turning to the wall, and both of them looked at it, Cloud thinking about his financial state. He'd have to stall on parts for Fenrir, but… "Yes, some."

"Then you work on patching this up, and I know where we can get a jukebox."

"A jukebox?"

"You say it like you never seen one," Barret scoffed, and when Cloud continued looking slightly incredulous decided to blame it on the blond's notoriously spotty memory. Jukeboxes were hardly _old_. "It'll liven the place up, having some music. You should know it's a good idea! Whose idea was it to open a bar in the first place?"

"…hm, right. Guess I'll trust you."

"Damn straight."

"Tifa's still going to chew me out, isn't she?" Although by now, Cloud actually looked a bit amused at the thought, smiling wryly. It was definitely an improvement from the moodiness.

"Something that big, she'll know we've been up to somethin'. But hey…"

"…We're fixing it, right?"

Notes: This is a rather old piece that's been sitting in my computer for years now; the inspiration was a story in my mom's family about how my oldest uncle, who still doesn't know when to stop picking on people sometimes, used to be a lot more merciless in teasing and was occasionally just a plain bully. The next oldest sibling put up with this for years but grew up to be the stronger of the two. When they were teenagers, the younger brother finally snapped during a fight and ended up putting the older one through a wall-luckily no serious injury to the other brother, but it did make him back off a little. And got them both in huge trouble for the fight. Even if Barret and Cloud are a bit cleverer about fixing up their messes, they're still likely getting in a bit of trouble once Tifa comes home. Other bits of the conversation just wandered in over time. Also, I know Seventh Heaven has a radio, it just seemed more for personal use than for the bar.


End file.
